Your vote makes a difference. You make this country what it is. You have opportunity and responsibility to change the future. Make the time to embraceyour right and privilege. If the lines are long, be proud of your neighbors for making the same decision you did. Be patient. Being there matters. YOU matter. Do this. It’s your chance.

I proudly announced yesterday that I finished my Christmas shopping for one of my kids from the comfort of my couch and PJs. I’m still reveling in the joy. I love when I stumble onto a sale I need. I asked my kids ages 4, 6 & 9 to start thinking about what they might want for Christmas. The 9 yo wants one little tiny thing…an iPad3. *mouth drops* *eyes bug* Cha-ching. NEXT please. 6yo tells me he wants Trash Packs. He wants “A Trash Pack Christmas” meaning only those toys, all of them! Hey, my kids each think big in their own way. 4yo daughter wants pink sparkly things. No problem.

For those of you blessed enough to have never heard of Trash Packs, they are little squeezy figures about the size of my thumbnail that come in tiny trash cans. Right. Well, guess what? You can collect them all! LOL. Lucky, lucky ME. My daughter collects Squinkies that look like tiny princesses and pretty things. Son collects rubber garbage. You can get a 6 pack of trash cans and 12 collectible pieces of trash for only $10-$12! But wait — there’s MORE! You can buy accessory toys to go with your new trash and set of tiny garbage cans. Have you guessed WHAT accessories? Let me tell you. You can get a Garbage Truck. A Dumpster. And a Street Sweeper. *hangs head for our future.*

I keep a few Trash Pack items in my Amazon shopping cart. The prices never change. The big items, truck, dumpster & street sweeper are around $25-$30. Well, that’s not happening for me. BUT after hearing his excitement about the possibility of a Trash Pack Christmas! I checked Toys R Us. I always have his little cutie (big mouth) sister with me since she’s 4. She’s home allllll the time and the kid sees all, knows all, TELLS all. So, I kinda hoped Toys R Us didn’t have a deal so I didn’t have to make a trip there with my sweet daughter who wants to move into the big dollhouse and never-ever leave when we go. It was my lucky day. Turns out, those ugly trash toys were all on sale. The big items were only$15. If you bought one item, you got a choice plushie for $5 instead of the ususal $20 (daughter LOVES plushies) and if you bought some other thing, you got a free something or other that looked like a boy toy AND if you spent $49, Free Shipping.

*Collapse*

So, I am the proud owner of over $50 of new trash, being delivered for free, & well in advance of Christmas. I love it. He will love it. I am so thankful for the Internet. Toys R Us is on my *Avoid at all costs* list everyday, but especially between now and January. Lucky me, I got all the benefits with none of the hassle. Boo-Yah! Winning. Winning. Winning. (If you call buying trash winning.) Funny how parents will say things they never imagined they would. Like, “Don’t lick your brother!” LOL.

So, there’s Nano.

For those of you not in the know, Nanowrimo is National Novel Writing Month. Writers scramble to put down 50,000 words in 30 days during the month of November. I started writing about 4 years ago. Last year was my first attempt. I failed. I had a really hard time getting into it. I think I rebelled internally because it’s not unlike me to write this much or more every month. Maybe I wasn’t into the story. Didn’t like the pressure. Thanksgiving and visiting family threw me off…I don’t know. Anyway, I didn’t finish. In fact, I went on to write 4 novels since last year, but haven’t given last year’s Nano project a second thought until now. *shrugs* I’m sure my threapist would have something to say about this if I hadn’t driven him to retire early. Whatever.

This year, I saw a notice go through my tweet stream – seriously people, get on twitter– announcing the editors at Entangled Publishing planned to have an Entangled Smackdown, helping writers who registered for the event through Savvy Authors website with their Nano project. You registered, picked a line and then got started and got feedback. Score.

You know my life is a series of ridiculous, so this is what happened to me.

1. I went to register and learned I needed to pay a fee to join the site. I decided the help coming from editors I wanted to work with some day was worth it, plus the site’s great and has lots of other opportunities, so I joined. I think this act caused the site to crash. Wouldn’t be a shock if it was the reason because that’s what happened.

2. I tried repeatedly for 2 weeks to log in and couldn’t. I sent emails to the helpdesk. Nothing. I was shutout. The site had issues, I knew it would be resolved soon, but probably not before the Smackdown began and I saw the workshops were filling up. Soooo I moved on with my life.

3. I rolled with it. Bummer. Wasn’t meant to be. I went back to plotting out a romance NOT fit for the Bliss line at Entangled – which was the line I wanted to do the Smackdown with. I was quite enjoying it. I made contacts for research at the FBI gang crimes unit near my setting and found a bilingual friend to help with some street language I wasn’t positive about. So, I gave up on Nano and figured I’d get busy on the thing I was all excited about.

Then, guess what? You know. *nods slowly* Yeah ya do.

4. I get a response from the Savvy site. It’s up. I’m in and guess what else? Yep. The line of Smackdown I wanted into had an opening. *picture me looking between 2 open palms* Do I keep going on this exciting new project or do I quick whip up a new idea fitting of the Smackdown line I wanted –in 2 days (I got in with only 2 days left before the Smackdown began). Well, in this business, you just don’t pass on an opportunity to get real advice from real editors, especially at presses where you want to work.

5. I joined the Smackdown. This means I am now spending every free thinking moment to develop a plot, story Arcs, tropes etc to create a sweet romance novel that will make someone twirl in their living room.

An Interview With Naomi Stone

There is a scene in my new book, Under the Same Sun, where a reporter interviews the female main character, Naomi Stone.

They are sitting on a hotel terrace in London—in the beautiful spring sunshine—and the table is set for tea and cake. Neither Naomi nor her husband, Jon, the famous rock star, have any idea that the reporter, Parkeris actually a stalker who will put Naomi in mortal danger only a short while later.

The interview doesn’t go too well, and ends abruptly. But I’ve always wondered what Naomi would really say in an interview. So I’ve made one up.

The moment Naomi Stone enters the room I feel like a slob. A fat, old, frumpy slob.

I’ve seen photos of her, seen her from a distance, but never this close up, never face to face. Even though she must be nearing forty, she is a strikingly beautiful woman with flawless skin and thick, black hair—sort of an Audrey Hepburn mixed with the elegance and poise of Grace Kelly.

In her wake, her husband walks in, the famous, the one and only, Jon Stone. Or should I should say, he saunters in, hands in his pockets, chatting with Sal Rosenberg, their manager, who is there, too. They sit down, all three of them, across the table.

Sal offers me tea or coffee. There are some very cute, dainty cupcakes, a bowl of candy and chocolates.

“I don’t like interviews,” Naomi says, and her voice is as I thought: sweet, melodious, soft and gentle, like the water of a quiet brook. “But I was told you do them very well. So…here we are.”

No, I hadn’t expected to get her alone. Not really. In fact, it’s a treat to see Jon Stone. He is one good-looking devil, that man. They really are a beautiful couple. Am I envious? No, not really. Such beauty must be a burden.

“You and your husband go back a long time. What’s the secret of keeping a relationship alive with someone as famous and celebrated, as Jon Stone?”

A small smile, more like the shadow of a smile, flits across her face. “We haven’t been married all that long. Jon had plenty of time to enjoy his fame before settling down.”

I swear Jon Stone is hiding a snort behind his coffee cup. Naomi, on the other hand, looks straight at me, her eyes clear and dark, ignoring him.

“You know of course, about his past wild Hollywood life?” What am I—a tabloid reporter? I think to myself.

“Of course, but that was before we got married. It’s none of my business.” She has this way of putting her answers, this habit of saying them in such a way that every sentence sounds like a final statement. This is hard work.

Change of tactics.

“You and your husband won an Oscar together, for a movie soundtrack.” I sense a stiffening to her shoulders Is she afraid of talking about the shooting?

“You wrote the song lyrics, Jon the music. How does that work? What comes first, the words, or the music?”

Aha, this is a direction she’s comfortable with, and I get another smile.

“There is no rule,” she says, “sometimes I write lyrics and Jon picks them up, and sometimes he’s fooling around on the piano, trying out a new melody, and I hear the words in it.”

“She’s lying,” Jon interrupts, “That’s not at all how it works.”

A secret something passes between them, more than a smile, less than word.

“Mostly it’s her poems that inspire me to write the music.” he goes on, “She has these transcendent moments when something catches her attention and the lyrics just tumble out of her, no effort, no work. Five minutes, and she has produced another killer song. And then the hard part begins, my part, when I have to come up with a melody that will do her words justice.” His hand grabs hers where it is resting on the white tablecloth, and presses it. “She doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me. It’s a constant challenge, living with such a creative person.”

A small giggle escapes Naomi, and she hides it behind the napkin. They are clearly having fun.

“And the shooting?” I’m sorry to be bursting their bubble of mirth. “See, I know it’s not something you really care to talk about, but we have to mention it. You have never spoken about it in public, and yet it was a terribly public event.”

Sal opens his mouth to respond but stops when Naomi raises her hand.

“It’s okay, Sal, she is right.” A short glance in his direction, a quiver of her lips. “I have never talked about it because there really is nothing to say. Someone hated me enough to try and kill me. I was wounded but survived, and got well enough to go on tour with Jon. End of story.”

“The injuries you sustained were nearly fatal.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“Yes, and it took me a long while to heal, both physically and mentally. But it’s over now. I’m not saying it was easy, but it’s over. It’s a part of the past, and we’re well and alive.”

“The shooter was one of your husband’s former lovers.” Again, a statement and not a question, and what kind of interviewer am I, anyway.

“I know.” A small shrug of her shoulder. “The point here, though, is that she was a former lover., but he married me, and not her.”

Do I hear a trace of ironic triumph? But no, that can hardly be possible with someone so lovely and delicate, can it now?

Jon looks at his watch, and she nods.

They have to go, Naomi tells me, the soundcheck for that night’s concert is about to start, and Jon needs some rest before he joins the band.

“What are your plans for the future?” I ask before it’s too late.

“I’d like to write a novel.” She says. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now, but I never had the courage to start. Now, though—” she threads her fingers through her husband’s. “I think the time is right. I’m a bit obsessive about these things, and I think if I really start this it will be, I will be…” Her words fall away and leave an awkward silence behind.

“The thing is,” Jon picks up the thread she dropped, “Naomi doesn’t know if she’s good enough to be a writer.” His voice is dark with amusement. “An Oscar isn’t good enough to prove it to her. I guess it will have to be a Pulitzer or something like that.”

For a moment it looks to me as if she wants to slap his arm, but good manners win out and she returns to her demure, collected pose.

“Come on.” Jon, rising holds out his hand to her. “Let’s go and see if the acoustics in this new and fancy venue do justice to our songs, shall we?”

And out they sail like royalty, their minds on other, more important things before they’ve even left the room. But then, just before the door closes behind them, I hear Naomi say, “Damn, I never got to eat one of the cupcakes, and they even had pink icing. I’ll have to sneak back in when she’s gone and get them.”

“You do that,babe,” The famous voice of Jon Stone is shaking with laughter, “we can’t have you starve, can we.” And I hear what sounds very much like a slap on the arm after all.

This was the eighth stop in Mariam’s Blog Hop celebrating the launch of her latest book, Under the Same Sun (Book II in the Stone Trilogy) which hit the Amazon.com bestseller list on its first day on sale!

We hope you enjoyed Mariam’s guest post, and invite you to write a comment below about this blog post for a chance to WIN one of three copies of Under the Same Sun (plus some pretty gosh, darn, yummy chocolate)!

You can get additional chances by following Mariam at every stop on her hop and leaving comments after each post. And hey, while you’re here, why not follow this blog.

Check our blog for the full calendar and more details about Mariam and her books!

About Miriam:

Born in Frankfurt, Germany, Mariam lived in Brazil and Saudi Arabia with her parents as a child before they decided to settle in Germany. She attended school there and studied American Literature and Psychology at Justus-Liebig-University in Giessen, where she met her husband. She lives in Hamburg, Germany, with her husband, two sons and two cats.

Fall has arrived in the Midwest with a whoosh and a shiver. Every front porch has a bale of hay and some Indian corn to “Welcome” guests. Brightly colored Mums line sidewalks and driveways. There’s a pumpkin patch on every corner & tractors toting families around fields late into the night. It’s bonfire time. Hot apple cider time. Gaining seven pounds on “Fun sized” candy time. Hello, Autumn you seductive little minx. I love you, and my cardigan will cover what Kit Kat has done.

I’ve added another layer of crazy to my general insanity routine this year. I am a room mother. *She says proudly* I have earned my beige minivan. It’s official. But wait…there’s more as they say. I have TWO kids in grade school. So, I’m two-two-two room mothers in ONE. Double bonus perk of kookypants proportion. Add this to the fact I can’t do anything halfway and you get me in pajamas more than half the day while I work on crafts that are utterly unnecessary.

Room mother sounds all warm and fuzzy but there are rules. Unspoken, sliding eyes rules. I don’t know them. (AKA choose to ignore them)I get the eyes a lot. But, hey, I’m all-in and I’m a pretty quick study. So, my first job as room mother was to bring pumpkin rolls to the teacher’s lounge by 10am last week. Ha! I brought TWO pumpkin rolls AND a display of chocolate covered pretzels AND I was there by NINE because I drove the kids to school that day *breathes on knuckles*. I killed it. *fist pump* *Tebows*

Next up: I am assigned to both kids’ classrooms for the Fall Festival Party thingy. I am to bring plates for both classes, plus napkins & baggies to one and a craft to the other. I’ve yet to figure how I’m going to divide myself in half and attend both parties, but I’ll get that sorted later. First up, I bought the standard Halloween print plates. When I got home, I was sad at their desperate need of tszuj. So, I made a few adjustments. (Read: tossed those out and started over). Now the plates I will bring look like those up there in the top corner. I did that. Me & my hot glue gun plus a costly trip to the local craft store. #Winning. I should never go there without supervision. My 4 year old didn’t help. She and I both wanted everything.

Next up: That craft assignment of mine. Yeah, I can’t find a craft that 4th graders will want to do or haven’t done already in their five long years of school (seven if they went to pre-school). So, I found this awesome game on Marth Stewart’s website. It involves balloon popping, so I emailed the teacher to see if that was allowed….in case some kid was afraid of the sound or of balloons (I had a friend who had a horrible fear of balloons. Imagine the fun I had with her at every opportunity. What a stupid fear. I mean, she should save that energy for stuff that can kill you, like monkeys, but whatever). OR if they thought stabbing balloons was too violent or whatever. Teacher says it’s fine. Teacher is lovely.

BUT I was assigned to “Crafts” and this looks a lot like a “Game” and there’s already a mom doing “Games.”

*Taps toe.* *Chews nail*

Here’s the thing. I really like the Martha Stewart deal. So, Ima do it. I know. I know. But I really wanna and, hey, I’m a volunteer and also what kid has ever complained they had to play too many games at their school party? Whatever. There will be pictures to come because – of course – I have a lot of work to put the thing together. Did I mention I found it on Martha Stewart? I am no Martha, so I gotta go get started